Where You Belong
by silver-sunn101
Summary: You can't decide your future or your feelings. He gives you a chance to fix that. RWHP Slash! One-shot. From an odd POV.


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A/n– This is a new writing style for me, so let me know how it goes, all right? I did this off-and-on for two days, and really wanted to post it before I leave to go camping tomorrow. I type fast and make a lot of mistakes, so please excuse the typos!  
  
I don't own anything in this fic. There's my mini-disclaimer.  
  
This fic contains slash. There's my mini-warning.  
  
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You sit in the common room, staring into the fire. So much is going on right now that the only time you get to yourself is at night, when no one else is awake. The professors pile all this work on you and you don't know how you'll get it done. And they expect you to decide on what you'll do after school. As if you have time for it between classes, homework and Quidditch practice. You hope that maybe you'll wake up one morning and know what you're going to do, but you doubt that it works that way.  
  
Harry has lived his life fighting against Voldemort, so everyone knows that he's going to be working against the Death Eaters that have eluded the Ministry's grasp. Hermione's exploring her options at a muggle college her home. You'll probably live with your mom and dad for a few years until you are forced to leave. Maybe by that time you'll have a few ideas. Again, you doubt it.  
  
You've been acting differently around Harry and Hermione lately. They know it, and they've asked you about it, but you won't talk. They're worried about you and you know it, but you just want to think things through. You can't explain what you're feeling even to yourself, in the confines of your own mind.  
  
You blame teenage hormones, you blame an unbalanced amount of testosterone. Why do you do that? It's clear what the answer is, but you've never been the one to see the things right in front of your face. Snape could sing Carmen in a purple tutu in a field of tulips and you'd turn to Harry and ask him what he thinks is for dinner.  
  
Harry wants you and Hermione to share a house with him after school. Hermione has already politely declined with mumblings of 'free dorms' and an odd look at Harry that you caught, but didn't understand. You haven't given Harry your answer yet. He volunteered to buy you your own house if privacy was an issue. Even if you *did* want the place (and you don't), your mom wouldn't let you accept it.  
  
It's not really the privacy thing that has you dwelling on the answer. The problem is sharing a place with Harry. You think that it's a mean thing to try and tell your best friend, especially since you can't give him the whole story as to *why* sharing a room with him is a problem. You've shared one with him for six–going on seven years, surely it can't be a problem?  
  
But in those seven years there has always been other boys in the room, other places to hide, excuses piled on excuses as to why you two can't study alone. In a house with Harry where would you hide? Locking yourself in the bathroom and refusing to leave wouldn't arouse suspicion at all...  
  
You don't want to *hide* from Harry, really. This is where another problem butts it's head in and says hello. You've never been good at controlling your actions. Put you alone in a room with Harry and your raging hormones and it's a disaster waiting to happen.  
  
Your thoughts jump around the subject, but it's hidden in there somewhere. You just aren't ready to face it. To face the fact that the lust you feel for Harry may not be lust after all, and you may be in love with your best friend. But you could be mistaking friendly love for a deeper kind of love. You sigh loudly. The 'what ifs' and 'buts' are running circles around the logic and feelings in your mind and it's confusing you.  
  
You walk over to the window and open it wide. There's snow covering everything and the half moon that sits in the clear sky reflects off of the snow. There's not clouds in the sky and every star is shining at it's brightest. The freezing wind flows in the window and ruffles your bright red hair. It relaxes you a bit, this cold wind, and it clears your sleep- deprived mind.  
  
You let your eyelids drop over your ocean blue eyes and you savor the feeling of the wind on your freckled skin. The sound of footsteps doesn't reach your ears, but his soft voice does.  
  
"You're still down here?" It's odd, you think, he doesn't sound the least bit tired. Your eyes stay closed.  
  
"Yes, I am. I'm not tired." He stands next to you and the smell of his shampoo mixes with the crisp winter air. It's an interesting combination and you're enjoying it.  
  
"What have you been doing all this time? You come down here almost every night and you're always down here by the time I'm up for breakfast."  
  
"I've had a lot on my mind," You mumble, disliking the depressed tone your voice carries. You open your eyes and write on the foggy window with your finger. Harry jumps up onto the windowsill and watches the fire in the opposite wall as he talks.  
  
"We're worried about you, you know,"  
  
"I know, I just... I can't really tell someone else what I'm thinking if I'm not sure myself what I'm thinking, can I?"  
  
You look at what you have written on the window and quickly scribble it out. You needn't be scribbling 'I heart H.P.' on the windows like some silly second year girl. You hop up onto the windowsill and put your back against the wall. The open window is on your left, the common room on your right, and Harry directly in front of you. He mirrors your position and as you look out at the frozen lake you can feel his eyes studying your face.  
  
"I guess you can't. I won't go all Hermione on you and tell you that voicing your jumbled thoughts to someone may help you organize them–" You smile and look at him.  
  
"But you had to get it out there anyway," Harry smiles back at you and you turn away with a blush. He seems to find your behavior interesting because he has gone back to studying you.  
  
"If you can't tell me what you're thinking about all the time, maybe you could tell me what's keeping you from agreeing to sharing a place with me after school?" He suggests gently after a few minutes. There is no impatience in his voice, only curiosity. "I don't want to pressure you, we still have months until school lets out..."  
  
He trails off with uncertainty and nervousness in his voice that you can't recall hearing before. You trace meaningless shapes on the window and dimly register that you have let the leg on the outside of the windowsill slip off of the stone.  
  
"... I really can't tell you why Harry... It's not as easy as saying that I can't live with you because you snore so loud that you keep Neville awake in Binn's class," He laughs quietly at the snoring bit, but is serious again almost instantly.  
  
"Try to tell me Ron, you know I'll understand," Or will you, you think bitterly.  
  
You take a deep breath of the wintery, shampoo air and it comes out as a sigh. You latch the window shut and fiddle with your sleeve as you try to think of something to tell him. This time you'll tell the truth, even if you do lose Harry. At least this weight in the middle of your chest will leave. You stretch out your leg on the windowsill and look into his concerned emerald eyes.  
  
"I don't know if you will understand this time, but I'll try to explain... It may take me a while, so please wait until I'm done, all right?" He nods, seeming happy that you're ready to tell him what's on your mind.  
  
"Ok, Ron," You sigh again and begin what you hope isn't the end.  
  
"I don't want to live with you because ... well it's because I don't know if I can trust myself..." You stop, look away, and try another way of saying it. "You know I love you like a friend and a brother, right?" You don't wait for an answer.  
  
"Well I... I think that I love you more than that. That's part of the reason that I've been so funny lately, and why I'm unsure if I want to move in with you. Here we have everyone else around us, but if we shared a house we'd be alone and that's what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid that I'll get you alone and I'll kiss your or something and that you'll never want to come near me again."  
  
You were babbling and you know it, but once you started talking you didn't want to stop. As you pause to take in some of that much needed oxygen, Harry speaks softly.  
  
"Are you done now?" The feeling of relief that had filled you up like a balloon has burst, leaving behind the limp leftovers of fear in the pit of your stomach. Numbly, you nod.  
  
You don't realize that he is moving until you feel his knee gently pressing against that sensitive spot between your thighs. He's straddling your outstretched leg and his breath his washing over you lips in such an intimate way that you have to close your eyes. Your breath comes out in short, ragged gasps as he brushes his thumb along your jaw.  
  
His hand moves into your hair, he gently pulls you closer, and he pushes his lips against yours. Outside your body doesn't react, but inside your stomach is flipping and you tingle all over. Harry is patient, and works your lips apart with his tongue. You can't remember him ever being this forward, but the thought barely has time to register before it's replaced by better ones.  
  
Finally, your body is past the shock enough to respond. You wind your arms around his back and push your tongue against his.  
  
That time you told Hermione that you had never been kissed and she addmitted the same, and you two kissed for experiment was different than this. This is demanding, passionate, firm and strong. That one time with her was awkward, exploring, soft and new.  
  
When you two pull apart, you occupy yourself with the buttons on Harry's nightshirt. When the shirt has met the common room floor up close and personal, you slowly kiss and suck at his neck, enjoying the gasps and whimpers that you earn as a reward. He stops you to pull your shirt off and your mouth is against his once again. You pull him closer in your insatiable desire to feel skin on skin, longing gasps erupt from you both when your hot chests are pressed as close as they can be.  
  
Harry rests his forehead on your shoulder while he catches his breath after you have broken apart again.  
  
"Why?" You gasp, you're still out of breath.  
  
He kisses the shell of your ear before whispering, "Because Ron, I love you too,"  
  
You sit in a content silence until your breathing evens out. Harry manages to move you around until his back is against the wall and your back is against his chest. His chin is on your shoulder and his hands on your stomach. You cover his hands with yours and intertwine your fingers.  
  
"So do you think you could share a house with me now?" He asks you. You smile, knowing he can't see it.  
  
"Only if I *don't* have my own room,"  
  
"After that, I'm not letting you leave our room... not even for work," You laugh with him, but sigh afterwards. You still haven't decided what you want to do, which you tell Harry when he asks you what's wrong.  
  
"Well, you could work with me," He says.  
  
"But I don't want to be an auror,"  
  
"Neither do I," His voice is patient, as it often is with you. You wait for him to continue. "There's an empty store next to Fred and George's shop that I've bought. I'm going to open up a Quidditch shop,"  
  
"What happened to becoming an auror?" You ask, slightly disappointed in yourself for not knowing his career change.  
  
"I'm tired of fighting. I've already killed Voldemort, I've done my good deed for this century. I just want to do something relaxing now," You kiss his palm.  
  
"Good, you deserve it..." With a sigh you untangle yourself from Harry and hold your hand out to him. "Ready for bed?"  
  
He puts his glasses back on before taking your hand. You gather your shirts and head upstairs. Before you climb into your beds, you stop him.  
  
"Sleep with me tonight?" He questions you with his eyes, but says nothing. "So that I know in the morning that this wasn't a dream." You whisper.  
  
He kisses you softly and agrees. You both climb into your bed and curl up in each other's arms as if it was natural for you to do this every night. You hope that it becomes something natural and normal. His breathing evens out, but you stay awake. You breath in the smell of his shampoo until it lulls you into dreams as well.  
  
You are Ron Weasley, and you fall asleep knowing that this is where you belong.  
  
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:~*~:silver-sunn101:~*~: 


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